M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

“Good,” Ben agreed. “Then we will go to the dining room and you will have some breakfast and we will plan from there,” Ben said firmly.

At the moment Jack lacked the internal fortitude to stand up to this new Asian captor albeit a kindly Chinese priest, but Jack suspected he was in the hands of a velvet hammer.

Jack studied Father Ben over his coffee. He had eaten some of his breakfast without comment and Father Ben had remained quiet as well.

Finally Jack spoke, “I’ve heard a lot about you from Andrew; I had looked forward to meeting you. I’m embarrassed that it should be under… er, what I mean to say is that I would rather have made a bit better impression.”

Ben responded quickly, attempting to put Jack at ease, “Mr. Hubbard,” he paused, “May I call you Jack?” he continued, “It may have been providential that we meet this way. I am aware of the fact that you were somehow connected to George Kelshaw and I’m certain his death was a shock to you. I believe it was important for me to tell you in person, about Andrew being hurt.

Please do not be concerned about the circumstances of our meeting. I am honored to meet such a good friend of Andrew’s,” he assured him.

“Father Ben, how long have you known Andy?” Jack queried.

“For several years; he may have told you, one of our merchant seamen lost his papers. Andrew came to the rescue,” Father Ben chuckled, “He solved a problem that to me seemed overwhelming, within a few days.

“I am amazed by Andrew; he has so much integrity,” Ben said fondly, “He will go to any length to help if he believes in a cause or a person. He has helped me and the Center countless times since I’ve known him. And he has so much energy! He is a great friend.”

“Yes, Father Ben, he is a ‘great’ friend.” Jack was thinking of his own reliance on Andrew’s integrity when he told George Kelshaw that he could trust Andrew for help.

Breakfast finished, Ben said quietly, “If you feel you are ready now, I will be happy to take you to the hospital to see Andrew.”

Jack nodded, “I am ready—let’s go.”

Ben sensed the deep undercurrents operating in Jack Hubbard and he prayed silently, “Help him, Father.”

At his office early this Monday morning, Neil Klein had received a call from Detective Jim Savalza, made much earlier Seattle time. He had also received another call late last night from Andrew Kincaid.

Neil asked Jim, “How is Charlene Thayer?” without waiting for a reply he added, “What have you learned about the explosion?”

Jim responded, “Our guys are working on trying to determine what type of explosive was used… Kincaid thinks that it was dropped into a tote bag by the bench where they were sitting. It did a lot of damage.

They were lucky… apparently Charlene left the tote by the bench and didn’t realize it. They had crossed the street when she remembered the bag and was trying to go back to get it when the thing blew up. We’re still not sure how bad she’s hurt… she’s still unconscious. There was a couple in a car that had just passed and they were pretty badly injured too. The rear end of the car took the brunt of the blast; it was a miracle that the gas tank on the car didn’t explode. Whatever it was, it wasn’t designed to take a wide area, otherwise nobody would be around.

“Andrew said he has some idea of who could be responsible. Oh, by the way, he and I cleaned ‘bugs’ out of his apartment last night; just thought you should know.”

Klein responded, “Yes, he told me that too. Detective Savalza, please tell Andrew that we’re investigating at this end and that we have ideas too.”

As Jim was concluding his call to Neil Klein, Ed Peterson stuck his head in the office.

“Got a minute, Savalza?” he asked.

“Sure, what’s up?” Jim replied pleasantly.

Ed slid into a chair and spoke privately. “I had this call yesterday from Dora Maxwell.”

“Oh yeah? What did she want?” he responded, his curiosity aroused.

Ed produced a scrap of paper with what looked like a telephone number written on it and handed it to Savalza saying, “She asked if I could come by the house sometime yesterday and I did. She said she had been going through some of Monte’s clothes before sending them to Goodwill and she found this in the pocket of a suit that Monte had worn the week he was killed.”

Savalza shrugged saying, “Well it could have been in there for months…”

“No,” Ed replied, “Dora said it had just come from the cleaners…”

Savalza looked at the writing on scrap of paper; there was the letter ‘R’ and what looked like a local telephone number.

“What do you think?” Ed questioned as he looked over Savalza’s shoulder at the paper. “Do you think it means anything?”

“I don’t know—let’s dial it and find out.”

Ed smiled, he loved a mystery, “You remember Dora said that Monte told her he was on a stake-out with me. I have to wonder if that number had anything to do with…”

Jim was dialing; he waved Ed to silence. He heard a cold voice answer on the second ring, “Ramsey… hello,” he said again, impatiently.

“Hello, who did you say?” Jim asked innocently.

“This is Lyle Ramsey, who is this?” he demanded.

“This is Detective James Savalza, Seattle PD.”

Ramsey paused and then said coolly, “This is Lyle Ramsey of Ramsey and Carr. Your call came in on my private line, Detective, who were you calling and how did you get this number?”

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Ramsey, it’s obviously the wrong number or I must have misdialed. Please excuse the call; I’m very sorry to have disturbed you,” Jim offered apologetically.

He quickly hung up and looked up at Ed Peterson, “I got Lyle Ramsey on his private line—now why do you suppose Monte would have Ramsey’s private number?”

Ed scratched his head, “Beats me, Monte sure couldn’t have afforded a high powered law dog like that and why would he need one anyway? Do you think this could have anything to do with him being killed?”

“I don’t know, Ed, but I think it raises some interesting possibilities. You’re right, it certainly doesn’t fit Monte’s profile.”

“I have a meeting so I’ve got to get going, Jim, keep me posted and if you want me to do anything, just holler,” Ed said as he left the office.

“Thanks, Ed, I will, definitely.”

In his office Ramsey pondered the call and drew an uneasy breath. “I t could have been a misdial.” Lyle shook his head in disgust thinking of Maxwell’s failure, “It is also possible that my number could have surfaced in some of that idiot’s belongings. This will bear watching,” he said to the portrait staring down at him.

Jim took the scrap of paper, tucked it into a plastic bag pocketed it and left for Harborview. He figured he could kill two birds with one stone; check on Charlene and talk with Andrew in the same visit.

He found Andrew in Charlene’s room…, “Any change?” he asked.

Andrew shook his head, but said quietly, “I think she had a good night.”

“That’s good. Let me buy you a cup of coffee,” he urged; seeing that Andrew was reluctant to leave he added, “This won’t take long.” In the corridor Jim spoke softly, “Had an interesting development this morning, I think you’ll find it very interesting as well.”

They reached the cafeteria and after getting coffee they took a table in the mostly empty room.

“What’s going on?” Andrew asked, “What is this new development?”

“Ed Peterson came in to see me this morning to give me this,” he removed the scrap of paper from the plastic bag and placed it in Andrew’s hands saying, “Ed had a call from Dora Maxwell yesterday asking him to stop by… she thought it might mean something. It came out of one of Monte’s suit pockets—a suit that he had worn the same week he was killed. Dora said the suit had just been cleaned.